Who was born here and danced with infancy?
The stones let me go, (but) to make a difference their names are kept,
expecting half with nothing to find.
Like a lighthouse, a wild nothing moved to an empty place
tended embers of life fires, envelop, something wide and moral.
It takes and leaves, flicker, heavy, growing, leeched.
The son will rise.
The son has died.

Pulled from my body, a part of you I never knew,
(and I) fall into the whole of your empty space,
empty and torn, with a piece of our own fate.
Torn from the body, a part of me you never knew,
(and you) fell into the nothing of my empty place,
pulled with a piece of that vacant face.
Where I came apart.
Torn from a part of me.

Beating bright and in the eye, the isles of the body they turn.
They are shaped by the flood, the onset of a blindness.
Leeched, and wearied, unfolding somewhere else.
It is gone and the body is stood blind.
Back through, a dirge, a remedy and a fever.
Borders sketched without song.
A child was buried here.
Here, my son was buried.
And God danced around the coffin.
and we danced with your God.
and I watched my mothers body, raped by a prophet.
I watched my son die.

Chasing time, thats buried in.
rank and lodged, and paused.
And held at arms length.
With the season, comes the fathers line.
With the son, comes the fall.
A blank portrait, a son believed.
A sun was led and watch,weathered.
For the absence of light.
How to measure where the years have brought you,
and speak to decide, black from south.
You were taken away, dropped and mistrusted,
burned in the sun.
PUSH AND RELEASE.

A door passed through,
and a key for escape.
I am shook down to clearer water,
between the light of the sky and the earth.

Cut and crossed over, appearing and keeping hold.
Let you see, and touch, before it is struck and taken.
After the first movement, it comes forward.
In a revelation, it is scorched, bitter.
Structures of movement escape,
and change into something
removed from nothing.
Rattled by and by, as if someone was right.
Drawn and downed, indifference stands.
But a light from deep, it glows.
They must have seen it too.
Rattled.

A balm in your hands, it has begun to hide.
Once more, (left as) the one awake, a script knotted in a hand.
Absent and building, and looming in the air
hung and thin between (sparks of sunlight).
The dark and the dark, all the hours.
Numbers and worlds well-tuned.
Not all thing are well wound - there are joys.
But I am bound, to follow you.

What my body has known,
the shell of what was me,
Never here, by near and I.
Hiding what cannot be done,
light comes down.
What cannot be undone?
What came down,
left all I was and will be,
with a tight hold, I ask for everything,
to stay near me , to stay with me,
to keep apart, to take apart.
I am not here.
I was not here.